What a clash and bang of a year 2019 has been. If I could write a haiku it would go like this:
“Mum should not have died
Probs’ don’t date while you’re mourning.
Burn out is the worst.”
A terrible attempt at haiku aside, that would have been shallow. Self-pitying. And denying the greatness of overcoming adversity that I have experienced. And it would not bring light to the Goodness personified that was poured out over me this whole year.
Heck, this whole life.
And while I could wallow and plead for your pity and sympathy, through taking you along the undulating storyline of the nauseating trials I have faced in my first-world tower of first-world and yet totally valid human experiences, I would be missing out on the point of my existence, and the existence of the gift I have to write, to express. It is all to give glory to God. Surely.
There are two ways I could approach this. My question could be “where was God this year?” or “Why did I suffer so much?”.
But I think if I am honest with myself if I am, as Ernest Hemingway states, to “write hard and clear about what hurts,” I would have to admit to myself and to all of you that God has this year been asking the same question of me.
“Where were you this year?”
Sure, I’ve had moments of closeness to God. I’ve had great sightings of His glory and goodness over my family and my life. But the trajectory of busyness and wallowing in mourning, there has been so much inconsistency in my connection with Him that at the end of this year I began to ask myself “am I any closer to Him than I was before? What have I learnt? How have I grown?”
And as I ask all these human-imposed questions about measuring success in our spiritual walk, God is asking the simple question back to me: “where were you this year?”
And then I look towards Him, puzzled.
He rephrases the question (as He does quite a lot in scripture): “I missed you this year.”
My heart sinks.
“This article was meant to be about MY pain. MY suffering. Not yours, God.”
God smiles cheekily but with a yearning look in his eyes that cannot be masked by an emoji-likened smirk.
I collapse in tears, much like the night I gave my life to Him in my bed just four years earlier. Four years, and I’ve spent the last year of that time speaking of God’s goodness without consistently speaking to God’s goodness. The call in Psalm 46:10 to be still and know that He is God rings clear and true in this moment.
“Stop rushing and let’s just spend time together”, He whispers softly to me as I lay, face down, ashamed. In a strange way, I feel the gentleness of a hand I cannot see lift my face. It’s the hand of Jesus, my redeemer. His light expels my darkness.
How about you? Have you stood before God and let him expel the darkness? Are you connecting in with the true nature of this faith journey? That it is in essence and in totality a relationship? Have you been there for God this year?
Let’s make 2020 a year that we check in with Him. That we are tuned in to God’s relational desire for us. That we may abide.
WRITER: Ruth Hodge